Like Father, Like Son
by consequentialGamer
Summary: Originally a one shot (one shot can still be found in chapter one). Now extended into a multi-chapter fic. What would happen if Connor had been taught and raised by Haytham instead of Achilles? Rated Teen to be safe, may be changed later. OC, Templar!Connor
1. Original One Shot

Two hooded figures ran along the rooftops in Boston, silent and deadly. They took down guards with ease. The city was still oblivious to their presence, and that was just how they liked it. The pair dove off a roof and landed perfectly in a pile of hay.

They were Assassins, one older and experienced and the other a new recruit. A novice and his mentor. The elder was teaching his student stealth and discretion, and there was nowhere better than the crowded, bustling streets of Boston. They rolled out of the hay and onto their feet, blending perfectly with the flow of pedestrians.

Unseen by guards, they continued down the main roads until they were along the edges of the city. More people were on horseback here. The novice was suddenly jerked to the side by his mentor. They ascended a nearby wall and perched on the unstable shingles of an old building.

"Keep your voice and head low, Thomas," the elder Assassin warned.

Confused, Thomas looked down at the passing citizens. "What's the problem?"

"Do you see the two men down there? The dark-skinned one and his riding companion?" The Assassin looked further up the road, guiding Thomas with his eyes.

They both rode with a sense of superiority. They towered over everyone and everything they passed. The crowd unconsciously parted for them as they filed through the city at a leisurely pace. They weren't very similar; the lead rider looked like a typical English man, while his partner appeared to be Native American. Yet they both wore tri-cornered hats and coats. They were clearly close in ranking, but their uniforms weren't very familiar to the novice.

"Templars," his mentor said. "And not just any Templars. That's the Grand Master himself, Haytham Kenway. And riding alongside him is his son, Connor. They are as dangerous and ruthless as a Templar can be. To take either of them in a fight would be to dig your own grave. You are to avoid them at all costs. They are extremely sharp and you have no hope of evading them alone once they've found you."

The dark-skinned one, Connor, reined in his stallion. Haytham immediately turned back to his son, riding up alongside him. They leaned together and exchanged words briefly. The elder Assassin visibly tensed bit Thomas leaned forwards slightly, foolishly attempting to catch their conversation. He could hear nothing save for the usual bustle of the city.

Haytham nodded sharply and the two continued their ride. Thomas' mentor relaxed. He turned his back to the Templars, ready to call Thomas back to him. They had pushed their luck enough.

No sooner had the Assassin opened his mouth than a single shot rang out in the air. The teacher was frozen, mouth still open, eyes wide with shock. He fell to his knees as his the life left his eyes. His white robes were stained with the blood that blossomed from the bullet wound in his chest.

Thomas quickly turned his eyes back to the street where Haytham still sat on his horse. He was holding a smoking pistol. Connor was nowhere to be seen, but his horse remained.

The novice took off along the rooftops, panicked. His mentor's words still rang out in his head, but they were soon drowned out by his heartbeat. He turned his head quickly, searching for a hiding place, somewhere he could stop to collect himself and get his bearings. He could have sworn he heard footsteps behind him on the shingles, but every time he looked there was no one around.

Thomas dropped to the ground, racing through the streets. He avoided guards and patrols, weaving through seller's stalls and crowds of people. He dove through an open window and ran through the room before stepping out into a back alley. He spotted a well and dove into it, holding on tightly with his fingertips. He tried to slow his breathing, certain it was loud enough to wake the dead.

He crouched there for what felt like hours, but it was only minutes. His overworked muscles began to cramp and they begged for him to move. He pressed his face into his sleeve helplessly.

A few more minutes ticked by, and he felt like he was safe. Despite his mentor's warning, Thomas had evaded the Kenways. He pulled himself up out of the well and brushed off his robes. He wanted to get back to the rooftop to retrieve the body, but decided it would be best if he simply continued back to the rest of the brotherhood.

Thomas continued through Boston, certain that he had safely avoided death. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. He ignored it, deciding that it was just the sadness he felt for his mentor's death. He wasn't sure how he would explain that to the other Assassins.

He was at the other end of the city. The buildings and crowds thinned out until he was alone, walking. He had just reached his horse when a hand came down heavily on his shoulder. He was turned around and suddenly face-to-face with Connor.

"Oh, no. You're not going anywhere. We have a few questions for you."

Haytham peered around his son's shoulder, grinning smugly.

Thomas was prepared to scream in sheer panic when a well-aimed punch knocked him unconscious.

No one paid any mind to the two Templars and their new prisoner as they rode out of the city.


	2. (Author's Note)

Hey guys! So, I've decided that I'm going to attempt to extend this one shot into a full story. It'll take a while and some patience from you since I've never successfully written a multi-chapter fanfiction before. I hope you'll enjoy it and possibly tell me your thoughts on extending this.

Thanks for all the views and favorites! I really appreciate it!


	3. A Trip to Boston

**AN: Hey guys! So I decided to attempt to extend this fic as best as I could. This is more of a teaser chapter than anything, since it's my first multi-chapter fic. I'm not 100% decided on how I will format this but there will definitely be some perspective change happening between Thomas (I guess he's officially an OC) and Connor, and possibly Haytham.**

Ratonhnhaké:ton watched the two men standing by the town hall. He walked towards them, nervous. Despite all the commotion in the crowd, the boy still felt accusing eyes on him. He took a deep breath and stopped advancing once the uniformed men turned their attention to him.

He cleared his throat and nodded slightly. "Excuse me, sirs. Do any of you know where I can find Haytham Kenway?" His question was met with mixed reactions.

"Depends on who's asking, savage," one of the men replied sharply. He looked Ratonhnhaké:ton up and down. The man with the tri-cornered hat stood quietly without saying a word.

Ratonhnhaké:ton cleared his throat. "He is my father."

Before he could explain himself, the man who had spoken grabbed his wrists and shoved him roughly against the bricks of the town hall. "Didn't anyone teach you not to lie? It's quite rude. Course, with the way your people live, it doesn't surprise me."

Ratonhnhaké:ton attempted to press himself into the wall, away from the man's glare. "Please hear me out. My mother was Kaniehtí:io. He called her Ziio. She helped him find this cave he was searching for…" His voice faded out once he realized that the quiet man had stepped forwards.

"Why have you come searching for Haytham, boy," he asked, arms crossed over his chest.

"My mother died when our village was burned down. That was years ago, and now my people are in danger. I heard he might be able to help so I decided to search for him." Ratonhnhaké:ton's eyes darted between the two men nervously.

The man that just spoke looked thoughtful, staying silent. He looked Ratonhnhaké:ton up and down, seeming to size him up. Then he clasped his shoulders, pushing the other man out of the way. "I am Haytham Kenway. I'm sorry to hear about your mother. You look very much like her. Now, what did you say your name was?"

Ratonhnhaké:ton looked at the Englishman in front of him. He was at a loss for words. This man is his father. A man he's never met before but has heard stories about. He opened his mouth to speak, before stopping himself.

He wasn't sure how Haytham would react to his name. He would never be able to remember it, let alone pronounce it. He needed a different identity; one his father would be proud of. He sifted quickly through conversations he'd heard during his walk through the city before settling on one.

"Connor. My name is Connor."

Haytham smiled and Connor relaxed. Sometime during their conversation, the other man accompanying Haytham had disappeared and he was grateful. Haytham squeezed his shoulder lightly. "So, Connor. You said you needed my help?"

Before Connor could reply, a single shot rang out in the air. He jumped and panicked slightly as the Redcoats returned fire on the citizens. Haytham's lack of concern calmed him.

"We should get out of here. This has gotten out of hand." He led Connor with the hand on his shoulder, walking him down the street, away from the panic. Connor was grateful for the guidance.

They walked to a tavern near the edge of town. The sign on the building had a carving of a dragon. Haytham led the way inside and up the stairs with Connor trailing behind him.

Haytham stopped next to a long table and the men sitting around it paused in their conversations to face him. Connor noted the way they looked at him, as if awaiting orders.

"Good afternoon, Brothers. Allow me to introduce my son, Connor."


	4. Bait

**AN: So in the middle of planning this chapter I realized that Thomas would need a new name. D: It was a little annoying because I really liked his name, but then I realized he would interact with Thomas Hickey at some point and that would be too confusing. So instead of confusing you, his new name is James. This switches back to James' POV, after he was captured by Haytham and Connor. Enjoy, and sorry for the name change!**

**Almost double the length of the last chapter. Hope it's enough for you guys!**

When James came to the first thing he noticed was how badly his head hurt. He groaned, lifting his head slowly. His neck was stiff and sore and he felt like absolute shit. A muffled voice called out to him.

"Oy! Quit yer moanin!"

He flinched away from the boot that kicked him roughly in the side. After a few moments of silence, he dared to open his eyes. If he had any hope of escape, he needed to assess the situation. His heart dropped when he realized there was something over his head, blocking his view of the room. The sack was thick and no light shone through it.

He struggled into a sitting position, biting his tongue when pain shot through his stiff muscles. He attempted to stretch his shoulders and move them out of their uncomfortable position, but they were tied tightly behind him around what felt like a wood pillar.

"Where am I?" He called out. "Who are you?"

The boot connected with his side again and James huffed sharply, gritting his teeth against the pain. A hand grabbed the sack and forced his head up roughly.

"Listen, boy. You don't ask the questions 'round 'ere. So shut yer mouth or I'll shut it for ya." The cool metal of a blade pressed against James' throat threateningly and he strained to get away from it.

A door banged open loudly somewhere to the left and the blade was withdrawn.

"Thomas, I hope you weren't planning on harming the prisoner."

"Oh, course not, 'aytham. I was just 'aving a bit of fun."

The sack on James' head was pulled off and he blinked painfully at the sudden sunlight streaming in from the window. The light was blocked and he looked up. He recognized the face before him and cringed away, not trying to hide his fear. He distracted himself by looking around the room. It looked like a forgotten storage room of some sort, with barrels and boxes strewn about.

Connor tossed the sack to the side and crouched down to the Assassin's level, peering at him. He looked genuinely curious. When James refused to turn towards him, the look was replaced with something downright menacing. Connor grinned darkly, flicking his wrist. The hidden blade slid out cleanly and he pressed it to James' neck.

"No need to be afraid, Assassin. We won't hurt you." He pressed the blade a bit harder, watching a thin trail of blood roll down his neck. "Well, we won't hurt you _much_."

James held his breath, refusing to move or react to Connor's goading. Connor's eyes narrowed and he moved to trail the blade along the man's face, suddenly cutting a line along his cheek. James cried out, jerking away.

Connor grinned, pleased, and wiped his blade on the Assassin's clothes before retracting it and standing. He walked over to Haytham, patting his shoulder. "He's all yours." Connor sat down on a barrel in the corner, sharpening his hidden blade absently.

Haytham smiled warmly, but it didn't reach his eyes. He strolled over to the prisoner, hands clasped tightly behind his back.

James scowled at him, eyes defiant. "I'll tell you nothing. You worthless Templars won't get a word out of me. I won't betray my brothers."

The Grand Master laughed humorlessly. "Foolish boy, we don't need information from you. We already know everything you could possibly tell us. Connor?"

He stopped sharpening his blade and grinned. "Your name is James Harvey. You're 20 years old. Your first run-in with the Assassins was when they helped you transport your father to a doctor because he was sick with small pox. Your father passed away and you ran to them, seeking shelter and a place among their ranks. Need I go on?" He stood up and walked over to the man. "We know quite a bit more than you think we do. Everything about your precious Brotherhood and its values. Every person from Achilles Davenport down to a lowly novice like yourself."

James' eyes widened for a moment. He quickly regained his composure and cleared his throat. "If you don't need information from me then why am I here? You obviously need me for something, or you would have killed me along with my mentor."

Haytham looked regretful. "Ah. Yes. Admittedly, I was aiming for you. The damned fool stepped in the way. He would have been much more beneficial to us. But no matter. We have you now, and they will come looking for you. As small as your little Brotherhood is, they can't afford to lose a member. Even someone like you. So we'll give them a tip. Let slip that we're keeping you here. They'll make a raid to try and save you and we will be waiting to take another prisoner. You may not know very much, but you make excellent bait."

With that said Haytham turned on his heel and walked towards the door. "Son, keep an eye on him. And while you're at it, check him for weapons. Thomas is not always careful with things like that. Take his robes, also." He continued out of the room, closing the door behind him.

James tried to calm himself. His heart was pounding erratically and he was beginning to panic. He would never be able to do anything unless he kept a steady head. He watched closely as Connor walked over to him, starting by taking off his boots. He tossed them aside to search later.

He inspected the Assassin robes thoughtfully. To take them off would require untying James, but of course that was a terrible idea. Connor settled for taking out his blade and tearing through the fabric cleanly, tugging it off of the man.

James watched in horror as the shredded robe was discarded next to his boots. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the rough hands patting him down. Connor pulled a single, small dagger from the waistband of his pants. He chuckled to himself and stood, stabbing the dagger into a wooden post on the other end of the room. Then he gathered up the robes and boots and sat back down on his barrel in the corner to inspect them.

James let his head drop. He was exhausted and fairly certain that this would be the last time he would get a good long time to rest. He tried to get comfortable against the post before giving up and succumbing to sleep.


End file.
